"Make much MONEY!" Heavens! I don't want to make money if I can go the way shown to me by my longing. But if I really were to undertake something of this kind, I should even then not know how to get with decency out of my new arrangements here in order to go where I could make money. And how should I feel there?

Alas! this is so impossible that the impossibility is equalled only by the ridiculous position into which I sink when I commence brooding over the possibility of the plan. My work, my "Nibelungen," would then of course be out of the question.

This WORK is truly the only thing which still ties me to the desire of life. When I think of sacrifices and demand sacrifices, it is for this work; in it alone I discover an object of my life. For its sake I must hold out, and hold out here, where I have got a foothold, and have settled down to work. If I consider it rightly, all my intended action can only have the object of enabling me to hold out till the completion of my work. But for that very reason I can DO nothing; all must be done by OTHERS. On that account I latterly again felt the liveliest desire to obtain my amnesty, and thus to gain free access to Germany. In that case I might at least be active in helping on the performances of my operas. I might at last produce "Lohengrin" myself, while as it is I torture myself for the sake of it. The most necessary thing for the moment seems to me to repair the Leipzig disaster; I was on the point of venturing there without passport and of endangering my personal liberty (good God! "liberty!" What irony!). In calmer moments I intended to write to the King of Saxony, till this also appeared quite useless and even dishonourable to me. Then again, as lately as last night, I thought of writing to the Grand Duke to explain my new situation to him and to ask him for his energetic intercession at Dresden. But this morning early I came to think that this also would be in vain, and probably you agree with me. Where can ENERGY and real WILL be found? Everything has to be done by halves, quarters, or even tenths or twelfths, a la X.

So I sit down again, cross my arms, and surrender myself to pure, unalloyed SUFFERING. I can do nothing, except create my "Nibelungen"; and even that I am unable to do without great and energetic help.

My dearest, my only friend, listen. I CAN do nothing unless others do it for me. The sale of the rights of my operas must be brought about, unless I am to free myself from my situation by violent means. In the way of pure business this has become impossible by the Leipzig performance, which, if my wish and my conditions had been observed, would not have taken place; it must be simply a work of friendship. To no one but you can I explain myself accurately, because you are the only one who can understand at its true estimate, and without a shake of the head, my position, such as it has been brought about by my moods, inclinations, whims, and wants. How can I expect a Philistine to comprehend the transcendent part of my nature, which in the conditions of my life impelled me to satisfy an immense inner desire by such external means as must to him appear dangerous, and certainly unsympathetic? No one knows the needs of people like us; I am my self frequently surprised at considering so many "useless" things indispensable. To YOU alone can I explain how painfully I am placed, and how necessary immediate help is to me. This is the first and most indispensable thing to preserve me for my whole future. Owing to my extreme sensitiveness in this matter, I shall otherwise be compelled—because for such a frivolous reason I do not want to take my own life—to start at once and fly to America.

I am in a pitiful condition, and I know that to such a friend as you pity comes from love. Give me up if you can; that will settle all. With my terrible care my violent nervous disorder has also returned. During my work I frequently felt quite well; the thunder-clouds seemed to have cleared away. I often felt beautifully elevated, gently supported; generally I was silent, but it was from inner joy; even hope wound itself softly round my heart; the children of fable came to the weeping elf, saying, "Weep not; thou too mayst still be happy." But the word resounded from farther and farther distance, till at last I could hear it no longer. Silence! now the old night holds me again; let it devour me altogether!

Pardon me. I CANNOT help it.

Farewell, my Franz; farewell; farewell.

Your

R. W.

146.

Dear Friend,

You were going to send me your "Kunstler." Why does it not arrive?

How about the "Faust" symphony? I am writing the "Rhinegold" at once in full score. I did not see my way to jotting down clearly the introduction (the depth of the Rhine) as a sketch; so I hit upon the full score. This is a slower way of proceeding, and my head is still a little confused.

The Princess has done well; greet her and thank her warmly from me. Who knows how it will turn out? I do not care to know.

This is a sign of life to which you must respond sympathetically.

Your

R. W.

Zurich, February 7th, 1854

147.

Dearest Richard,

It is a sad fate that we have to live apart from each other. I can tell you nothing but that I think of you constantly and love you from my heart of hearts.

Latterly my time has been painfully occupied by all manner of business, visits, work, etc. I have written to nobody, as you may well imagine, because you did not receive a letter from me.

Together with this I send you the score of my "Kunstler" chorus, and between this and the autumn I intend to publish half-a-dozen orchestral pieces, also in full score. By October the "Faust" symphony will be finished, which also will be published soon afterwards.

Let us leave these trifles alone and speak of your "Rhinegold." Have you really finished it? That has been wonderfully quick work indeed. You know how delighted I should be if you would let me see the score. Send it to me as soon as you can do without it.

In the meantime I have not neglected your pecuniary affairs, and hope that my intentions will not be frustrated. CANDIDLY answer me two questions:—

1. Have you pressing debts, and what sum do you absolutely require to meet them?

2. Can you manage to live this year on your present income?

There is a probability that Berlin may come off next autumn, and in that case I shall let you know the little result of my effort in good time. For the present DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT IT. Dorn was here, and conducted the second performance of his "Nibelungen." The work is to be given at Berlin in six weeks.

Brendel wrote several things to me about the "Lohengrin" affair in Leipzig. In my opinion, nothing further can be done for the moment, and you have every reason to be calm and SATISFIED. Lohengrin's barque is drawn by a swan; the cackling of geese and the barking of dogs are of no avail.

Berlioz is coming to Hanover at the end of March, and goes from there to Dresden, where he will conduct a few concerts at the theatre. Fischer wrote to me recently about an intended performance of "Cellini" at Dresden. This is as yet a secret, which I, for my part, should like to see made public very soon. The opera is Berlioz's freshest and roundest work, and its failure in Paris and London must be attributed to low villainy and misapprehension. It would be a fine thing if Dresden were to offer him a brilliant REVANCHE, such as he deserves.

Brendel will publish his book